Save the Sewer
by stormsandsins
Summary: Sometimes a job just ain't so glorious-smelling... Claire's first job requires no dainty handling. She'll also need Warren's power, which could in fact end up killing them both.
1. Job Calling

**Author's note**: This is yet another offshoot of my multi-chapter fic, _Leaving Marks_. It takes place once again in the future, some time after Warren and Claire have graduated from Sky High and start their jobs saving Maxville from disasters and villains.

Sometimes a job just ain't so glorious-smelling...

* * *

**CHAPTER ONE: JOB CALLING**

I clicked off the phone in my hand, swallowing around the dryness in my throat for one second, and glanced up at my newly assigned sidekick with quite a façade of bright assurance. "First assignment, Psychomet. Ready?"

"Oh God, oh God, oh God, wow," Joshua Galton sputtered as he emerged from behind a large display of electronics he'd been puttering around with. He drew to a vibrating halt before me. And, of all things, saluted. He'd done that the first day, too, when I'd shown up at his doorstep when I'd received my Hero Support assignation. "Psychomet reporting for duty, sir – ma'am!"

Giving a faint scoff, I decided to cut him some slack and, on the way up our Secret Headquarters, gave him the run-down even as I secured my hair into a tight ponytail. "There's a jam in the sewage system; solidified waste they need us to drain."

Josh's excitement had wilted right at the word "sewage". Now he positively grimaced. "Oh great, sewage waste is just my scent," he grumbled. "Gonna make an impression when we come out of there. I'm _sure_ the mayor will want to shake our hands afterward."

Cutting an amused glance at him as we climbed into my car, I said nothing, precisely because I'd thought the exact same thing when the mayor had made his hurried request. "Within an hour, if this pipe isn't drained, the pressure will make it explode" had not exactly done much in the face of decomposed… things, and smelly… fluids.

Now Josh paused in his heartfelt diatribe just as I peeled out of the garage in the abandoned backstreet I'd chosen as our headquarters location a week ago, and he turned to me, frowning. "Um, Claire?"

"I'm Freeze Girl," I reminded him automatically by sheer force of practise. Nothing like spending a week twiddling your thumbs waiting for bureaucracy to get a move on and find you a partner. You ended up shrinking your own head in front of the mirror and brainstorming names, trying them on for size in a heroic – or so you thought – voice. Or… you know, twiddling your thumbs some more.

"Sure. But, um, how do you plan on draining that pipe? Icing it won't exactly work…"

As I contemplated the problem, I knew a moment of total self-doubt. What the hell good was ice when you wanted to…

Melt…

Inspiration striked, and I threw a puzzled Josh – Psychomet – my coveted brand-new superhero cellphone. "Speed-dial 1."

Even as he punched in the two digits, Josh obviously couldn't keep his curiosity bottled up. "Do I want to know who you've put on speed dial? Some kind of–" He cut himself off. There were a few milliseconds of tense silence where Psychomet held in his breath. Then he blinked and blubbered and made a deer-in-headlights face at me.

I grinned, hearing his interlocutor's mounting impatience. "Put him on speakerphone," I instructed, swerving to avoid a head-on collision. "And lose the 'I just crapped' face."

A click, and Warren Peace's dry amusement shone through the small piece of hardware. "Hello, Snowflake. Done terrorising your new sidekick?"

"Nah, that would be you, hon," I quipped, narrowly missing a little Smart.

He chuckled. "My point exactly. What's up?"

Taking a deep breath ("She may make me lose my dinner," Josh whimpered) as I stopped at a red light and surveyed the intersection's car traffic, I glanced briefly at the phone Josh clutched like a lifeline. "I know you're pretty much off today, but can you please please please come meet us at the corner of Bryant and Jackson? I swear I'll make it up to you," I added quickly for good measure, studiously avoiding Josh's eye.

Josh, who made like the suddenly zipping scenery was the most fascinating thing on earth. Or maybe he was perving around seeing stuff that had happened in this car.

There was a bit of static on Warren's end, and I could see him frowning from here. "This is your _other_ cell," he realised, clearly having just checked the incoming number. "You in trouble?" he asked quietly, but the anxiety in his voice coming through loud and clear.

"No," I said fairly lightly, "but we'll need your firepower where I'm going." Then I begged again. "We're on a time constraint, War. Please?"

In the background on his end, I heard the comforting rev of his car. "Coming," he said unnecessarily, then clicked off to drive like the maniac he always was behind a wheel.

* * *

**Author's note**: Francis Galton is often referred to as the father of psychometrics. A person who has this ability can know the psychological history of an object, that is, feel the emotions of a person who previously held an object. Just thought I'd explain Josh's last name for those interested, and even explain his power before you guys ask :)


	2. Thick Packed Mess

**Author's note**: I've actually finished writing this fic (next chap still needs work, though), so there won't be much waiting time between chapters. Woohoo!

For those waiting on another chapter of _Leaving Marks_, I'm actually planning on working on that soon. I'll be at my sister's from December 19th to the 25th, I believe, so I'll try to post before that but don't hold me to it.

* * *

**CHAPTER TWO: THICK PACKED MESS**

I lowered my drill, surveying our slow progress. Dammit, all that waste was crammed in ultra-tight. It was difficult to tell whether this was the handiwork of normal sewage usage or of a villain – never seen a villain take to punching garbage into pipes – but I was frankly focusing on punching through those tight wads than figuring out how they got there. Everything in its own time. Time was of the essence, as the mayor had stressed. Currently the manhole beyond that wall was nearly overflowing with nauseous filth.

Hearing a car pull up nearby topside, I waded over to the manhole Psych and I had gone down through. My boyfriend's face appeared backlighted over it. "I heard what's going on on the radio," he said by way of greeting as he tied his thick hair back. He'd had time to change into at least a shirt bearing his superhero logo – the stylised flamed "P" for his Pyroman alias. As he lowered himself down the rusted metal rungs to our level, he asked, "So what do you need me to do?"

Just like that, he was letting me stay in charge. As he stepped down, I tugged him in for a quick kiss. "Thanks for coming." Then I cut straight to business. "I was thinking you could burn your way through this mess, and I'll keep the pipes from warping and hopefully I can even contain your spread."

Warren pondered the suggestion a moment, then ran a hand through his hair in his classic uncertain gesture. "I don't know… we could end up negating each other's powers. You would need to let me have a little air, too. Worst case scenario, I could…"

Kill me.

Psychomet gave his two rosy cents. "It's worth a try. This metal can take a lot of heat without melting. Freeze Girl, you'll need to really work on containing the direct heat where he's standing, and let it escape out through the pipe beyond."

Uncertain, I cut a glance at Warren. He didn't look optimist either; he looked a little green, in fact. God knew he could incinerate everything in here.

"Okay." Psych backed up toward the ladder, two thumbs up. "I'll be getting out of your way now. Twenty minutes left, by the way. I'm thinking so positively right now I could be lighting up Disneyland all by myself." He left with our industrial drills.

We watched him disappear, trepidation a tangible thing in the uber tight space. Warren suddenly tugged me into him, his palm clammy against my neck as he held me against him. I felt his heart hammering wildly next to mine. "Love you," he murmured huskily into my ear.

"Love you too," I replied, just as shaken by the prospect of what we had to do. For all our counter-attack experiments and training in school, this was real, this was the most dangerous thing we'd never attempted, this was something that could actually _kill_ one or both of us – without air, Warren could simply choke to death.

"Be careful," he added before kissing me a moment that felt far too short.

Next thing I knew, he was waiting patiently for me to power up and secure the immediate area – and myself. When I'd formed enough ice to protect the pipe where the most of the action would take place, making an air channel with access to the manhole for myself, I felt an unsettling whoosh that stole all the air inside the pipe. I saw him falter and gasped helplessly, then he sucked in a hard breath and focused his energy on the packed waste blocking the pipe.

The very air around him rippled from the scorching heat. It took all my strength to hold the ice in solid form as he worked. Sweat beaded on his brow, rolling down and staining his already drenched, fire-resistant shirt, and he blinked repeatedly from the obvious toll the superhuman effort took on him as he charred away a good chunk of the waste. Some of it went flying off, some sticking to him.

"Stop a sec," I shouted, and he instantly powered down. Leaning toward the manhole, I called for Psych. "Hand us a drill!"

"Coming down! Damn, it's hot out here." A drill was lowered into the hole and Warren went and grabbed it, getting to noisy work drilling through the charred waste.

"Couple more hot shots, I think," he assessed tiredly after a while, handing me to tool when I came over.

I stopped him with a hand on his chest when he made to power up again. "You need to rehydrate." In a moment I created a sorry melting block, and he gratefully splashed himself in the face and drank another one, looking at least more alive than he had a moment ago.

As he cooled down with my idle touch, I thought out loud. "We need to figure out how we're going to make sure we're not swept with the stuff behind when you punch through that wall."

Warren opened his eyes almost groggily. "Be quick and ice it… I'll melt it when we're out of the way of this bitch."

"Good plan." I took a deep breath, hating to see him like this. "You ready for another round?"

He gave a quick grin, a little ghost of its usual wolfish brightness. "Save the sewer, part two. Bring it."

* * *

**Author's note**: I'm no physics/chem specialist and I doubt what Warren and Claire are doing is even feasible (i.e. I doubt the air from the manhole would even be able to circulate to Warren with his power activated), but I did try to make it sound as realistic as possible. In any case, Warren _is_ suffocating and it _is_ painful for him.


	3. Wrong Side of the Wall

**CHAPTER THREE: WRONG SIDE OF THE WALL**

Some time later, I heard Psychomet's voice reaching us from a loudspeaker a safe distance away. "Guys, you got two minutes left and the traffic here's a–"

"God dammit," I called back on a gritted growl as Warren and I pushed our powers to their limits, "we're almost done!"

Warren looked a bit manic as he chuckled and hacked his lungs out. "Where's… the fire… huh?"

"This your idea of humour?" I snapped, my breath coming in thick white puffs. "You're combusting and this damn pipe's not going to hold much more heat and I'm–"

Warren powered down, holding out his hand with a tight expression that was entirely focused on the hole he'd been burning. "Drill," he demanded. "This thing's going to burst if I keep going. Need to clear the rest. Help me."

I scooted in the frozen (not so much anymore) passage I'd made to the manhole. As I passed through, I fixed the melting structure, then leaned over to call to my acolyte. "Psych, I need the other drill!"

Psychomet's freckled, red face appeared, along with the second drill that he handed down to me. "We're seriously going to need to cool this black-top. My shoes are starting to smell."

I nodded tightly, taking due note. "Later. Start hosing it down, I'll take care of it later. Make sure the water's not too cool." Moving away as he saluted, I joined Warren.

Without a glance backward, he moved to the left. "Here, take the right. It's thicker here. Be careful, hold the drill with both hands, like this, or you could hurt yourself." He placed my hands where they should be on the instrument.

As I shot him a quick lewd grin, he rolled his eyes, then muttered just loud enough that I could hear, "Mind out of the gutter, Frost."

"No can do," I quipped, gesturing to our humble surroundings, and then started my drill grandly. The thing leaped with a roar and I braced myself as I directed the thing at the packed dirt and nauseous waste. We drilled in "silence" for what felt like years, but ultimately must have been just sixty seconds.

Somehow I heard Warren's sudden shout, flipped the switch on my drill in the same instant, and then threw out my hands at the surging brown fountain. It held, but the entire pipe moaned with the mounting pressure exerted against its walls, so with a prayer and a whole lot of shaking fingers, we both picked up our drills and dug the hell out of the remaining blasted wall.

After a moment, when we'd cleared the entire mess, he patted my back and switched off my drill. "Haul ass!" he yelled over the ominous metallic scrapes beyond the ice sculpture. Fluids rained on us from small fissures here and there, and I had to agree that it was time to get the hell out of Dodge before it crapped on us, so to speak.

"We're coming out!" I called to Psychomet, who probably didn't even hear. And then we pretty much flew topside.

Last thing Warren did once we'd reached the relative safety of the exterior was to fireball the ice, and the whole thing let loose with a deafening crack and splash. He rolled onto his back afterward and sucked in a slow, trembling breath.

Beside him, I breathed out, "First mission: success." A jet of water hit my face dead-center, and I sputtered. "Psycho!"

"Sorry ma'am," he said – unapologetically, "work's not done."

As I sighed, Warren clapped my back and wheezed out, "You go. See you later."

I'd felt the searing heat in his palm, saw they were red-hot. I lowered my voice. "You take a shower. Cold. And open the bedroom window. Fresh air."

He rolled his eyes - _yes, mother_ went unspoken - but didn't comment further. We both rolled to our feet, feeling the evening's toll everywhere. As he wobbled off with another dry cough, I reluctantly turned away and, to the wide eyes of a growing audience a safe distance away, did a lightly freezing number to a road that hissed and melted my ice for quite some time.

I'm proud to say the road did not crack.

I'm not so happy it took _hours_.

* * *

**Author's note**: Next chapter is the epilogue, and it is going to be decidedly less intense, I promise. Also, I decided to go against a huge plot-intensive storyline where the villain would be found. I could at some point do a kind of second-epilogue or something, but we shall see. For now, you'll only get that one epilogue :)

Oh, also. I started the next chapter of _Leaving Marks_, but I definitely overshot last time saying I would probably post it before the end of the week. No way in hell will I have it ready by then! Blame Friday night's exam!


	4. Rest and Recuperate

**EPILOGUE: REST AND RECUPERATE**

"We're going to have to invest in fireproof bedding," I murmured sleepily as I slid in next to Warren's burning body that night. Clicking off my nightstand lamp, I effectively obliterated the image of heavily browned sweat marks where his body had lay spread eagle when I'd come in earlier smelling like shit.

He scooped me into him, burying his nose in my hair and inhaling deeply. "You smell good."

"I worship at the altar of Dove," I imparted wryly. "God, that was nasty."

His husky laugh filled my ear. "You'd do it again."

Making a non-committal noise – translation: of course – I stroked the arm that held me closely, and sighed. "You're still burning."

His lips moved against my skin in an unmistakable slow grin. "And you owe me, if I recall…"

I moaned miserably, my entire body screaming bloody peace. "Raincheck," I mumbled. "And that's not what I meant and you know it. How can you even–"

"Kidding, believe you me," he chuckle-wheezed in the dark. "But I'll settle for my favourite icepack?"

He sighed and relaxed into me the next instant as I powered up. I think I nodded off soon afterward, but his laborious breathing still troubled me.

* * *

**Author's note**: As I said in the previous chapter, this is the end... though I may choose to keep going at some point. We'll see.


End file.
